“Perhaps,” she mused. “My father did write that he soon hopes to hear marriage vows spoken.” Lowering her eyes, she added quietly, “But I am not, after all, to be wed, am I?”
“Would you like to be, my little termagant?” Jeremy asked softly, amusement in his voice. “I thought you had resolved upon spinsterhood?”
“Spinsterhood?” Mrs. Hastings was aghast. “Nothing of the sort, my dear! Pray promise me you have not begun to turn eccentric? Spinsterhood. You have no notion, Emmaline, what that must mean to a woman. Either depending upon the charity of relatives and the necessity to play servant to their needs or, if one is fortunate enough to possess a source of funds, being the butt of gossip about what dire attribute caused that horrid fate. Even at fifty you would find yourself hedged about with conventions you could not bear, for age alone does not release an unmarried woman from the need to play propriety.”
Emmaline cast a withering look at Jeremy before turning to placate Mrs. Hastings. “I spoke in anger and well Mr. Barnett knew it. I am neither a feather-wit nor so naive as to believe that the lot of a spinster is an enviable one.” Then in a calmer voice she said to Jeremy, “Yes, I should like to be wed. For many reasons, one of which is that I should like to make my father happy. But not at the expense of a lifetime of misery for myself.”
Emmaline’s eyes challenged him to laugh at her, but Jeremy merely continued to regard her calmly. “May I ask,” he said meekly, “what qualities you believe would satisfy you in a man?” Emmaline looked at him suspiciously and would not answer. After a moment he suggested helpfully, “You would like him to be handsome, of course. And possessed of a fortune so that you need not want for anything. He ought to obey your every command and worship the very ground you walk upon. Am I not right?”
“On the contrary, you are quite absurd,” she retorted angrily. Swallowing hard, she looked away from him.
Ever persistent, Jeremy once more took her hand in his and said softly, “Very well, then tell me what it is you seek.”
Emmaline closed her eyes for a moment, then turned back to face him, tilting up her chin. “I should like to marry a man who cares about the same things I do. Someone who will share the troubled times with me as well as the good. And I wish to marry someone I love. But that is something you could not understand, I am sure.”
“Love?” There was a note of triumph to Jeremy’s voice. One Emmaline had not heard before as he went on smoothly, “And you fancy yourself in love with someone, do you?”
Panic seized Emmaline. Mrs. Hastings leaped to her rescue. In a derisive voice she told Jeremy, “You need not be thinking, Barnett, that she means you. I’ve no doubt there are any number of far more eligible, far more obliging gentlemen in London than you.”
Jeremy regarded Emmaline warily and she hastily looked away. Instinct told her not to lie to him and yet she could not bring herself to contradict Mrs. Hastings. Perhaps that lady did indeed know what was best, and in any event, Emmaline found she had no wish for her deepest feelings to be bared to Jeremy when he was in a mood such as this. “You’ve fallen in love with someone here in London?” he demanded harshly.
Emmaline nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“And does he love you?” Jeremy persisted coolly.
“I—I have no reason to think so,” she whispered in reply.
“And yet you still wish to marry him?” Jeremy demanded mockingly. “Are you sure your love is not simply an illusion?”
“If it is, then it is a remarkably sound illusion,” Emmaline retorted tartly.
Jeremy shrugged irritably. “A fortune hunter, no doubt. And I suppose you would marry him if he asked, even knowing he does not love you? I tell you frankly, you are a fool if you do. I have seen too many such marriages to believe they can ever work.”
Anger had straightened her spine and Emmaline no longer doubted the wisdom of her course. It was with a grim smile that she replied, “So too have I, and it is the one reason I am not yet at the altar.”
“Is it?” Jeremy laughed harshly. “You forget, there is another. We are still officially betrothed, my love, and you would need my agreement to send a notice to the papers breaking it off. And I tell you now I will not do so in order for you to marry some fellow I do not know. My sense of responsibility toward you is far too great to allow it.”
Grimly Emmaline replied, “You already know him.”
The same thought occurred to both Mrs. Hastings and Jeremy. Their eyes meeting by accident, the two hastily looked away. Mrs. Hastings had forgotten that she herself had started the falsehood. Instead it was the thought of her son that leaped to mind. This time it was Jeremy who carefully looked toward the window of the carriage. “I see,” he said roughly. “It seems you still have the power to surprise me, Emmaline. I had not thought love grew so quickly.”
“I have heard it said that love can spring up, full blown, in a moment,” her voice replied steadily.
“And if he marries someone else?” Jeremy asked.
“Then I suppose I shall nurse a broken heart.”
“Even if he is not worth it?” Jeremy demanded roughly.
He had turned to face her again and Emmaline met his eyes steadily. “Who is to say whether or not he is worth it?”
She might have added more had Mrs. Hastings’ voice not then intruded. “Children,” she said with some asperity, “we have arrived. And unless you wish to make us conspicuous by your conversation, I suggest you put the matter aside until another time.”
The coachman opened the door as Mrs. Hastings spoke, and they were soon all inside the theater. In spite of Emmaline’s fears, they were not late but neither were they so early that they could afford to dawdle on the way to the Hastings box.
“I do hope Edward and Miss Kirkwood and her mother have already arrived,” Mrs. Hastings said, fanning herself furiously.
Something must be done about her son and Miss Delwyn, she vowed, but at the moment she could not see just what.
15
EDWARD arrived at the Kirkwood household to discover everyone in something of a dither. Lady Kirkwood had found herself indisposed just as she was to have dressed to accompany her daughter to the theater. Now it was out of the question that either of them should go. If Rosalind had been her usual dutiful self, there would have been no problem. Mr. Hastings would have arrived and been given the regrets of the Kirkwood ladies and gone on to the theater by himself. When Rosalind was informed of this scenario, however, she had shown herself to be astonishingly willful.
“I am going to the theater with Mr. Hastings and Emmaline and Mr. Barnett, Mama,” she said quietly but firmly.
“You cannot,” her mother replied icily. “Nor, I assure you, would Mr. Hastings or the others expect you to.”
“Oh, but I shall,” Rosalind persisted. “I have promised Emmaline. She will be there, so you need have no fear as to the proprieties.”
As Lady Kirkwood was immediately ill into the washbasin held by a maidservant, it was some moments before she could form an answer to this evidence of rebellion. Moreover, she had not yet changed out of her day dress and did not dare to try. Indeed, as it was, there were times when the bed seemed to her to be moving most disastrously. Lady Kirkwood was therefore a trifle ill-tempered when she was finally able to reply, “That is not in the least sufficient and well you know it! Besides, the Marquess of Alnwick will be returning to London tomorrow for the celebrations and will expect to see you. I’ve no wish for him to hear I have been careless of your reputation. You’ll stay home with me.”
Rosalind took a deep breath. “No, Mama. I am going to the theater with or without your permission.”
“Fine talking, my girl,” Lady Kirkwood said severely. “But do you really think Mr. Hastings will take you if he knows it is against my wishes?”
To her mother’s astonishment, Rosalind smiled. “No, of course he would not. He is far too much of a gentleman.” She paused for effect before she went on, “If you do not a
llow me to go with Mr. Hastings, then I shall wait until he is gone and slip out—as you well know I am capable of doing—and hire a hackney to take me to the theater, where Mr. Hastings and Mr. Barnett and even Emmaline will no doubt conclude that I must be brought home straightaway. But by then I will no doubt have become the focus of a great many eyes, perhaps even more than the performers on stage, and I shall become the subject of the latest on dit.”
She paused and then added gently, “I don’t think you would like that very much, Mama. Particularly if you are so afraid of what the Marquess of Alnwick will say. Indeed, I am almost persuaded I ought to do something of the sort anyway.”
Lady Kirkwood was again too sick to answer right away. A good many thoughts ran through her head, however, including the recollection that his lordship’s first words upon seeing his newborn daughter had been that the baby was rather ugly and a trifle under the limit and perhaps they ought to throw it back. Just now Lady Kirkwood was inclined to wish they had done so.
Nothing had been resolved, although Lady Kirkwood was feeling over the worst of her illness, when Mr. Hastings was announced. “I shall not,” she said, fixing her daughter with an exasperated stare, “allow you to tell him the situation yourself. Nor will I forget, I promise you, that you dragged me from my sickbed with your nonsensical stubbornness!”
Rosalind merely continued to regard her mother tranquilly and even with an unseemly amount of interest. Together they went downstairs.
“My dear Mr. Hastings,” Lady Kirkwood greeted him nervously, “you find us in disarray tonight, I fear. I am unable to go to the theater and don’t quite know how to tell Rosalind she may not either. You and Mr. Barnett have always behaved with perfect propriety toward us, and Emmaline will be there but—”
She broke off in confusion and Edward finished for her, smiling wryly, “But he and I, particularly Jeremy, have such wretched reputations.” She nodded with relief and Edward said thoughtfully, “I do understand, of course, and can only regret that our past pranks now stand in the way of Miss Kirkwood’s enjoyment of the theater tonight. But perhaps you did not understand that my mother will be there as well? And that she will undertake to bring Miss Kirkwood home herself?”
Lady Kirkwood sighed. A trifle tremulously she said, “Yes. That would make a difference, of course. Yes, I do think I could let her go then. And now, pray excuse me, I am about to be indisposed again.” This last was spoken with rather unseemly haste and Lady Kirkwood fled before Edward had time even to express his pleasure that she had relented concerning Rosalind. Turning to the girl, he said softly, “Perhaps we should leave before your mother has time to change her mind?”
“Yes, let us go at once,” Rosalind agreed hastily. “How fortunate that Mama became indisposed after I had already dressed and not before.”
After he had handed her into the carriage a few moments later, given his coachman the necessary instructions, and shut the carriage door behind them, Edward said gravely, “You are more beautiful than ever tonight, Miss Kirkwood.”
“And you are so handsome,” Rosalind replied breathlessly, “though I suppose I ought not to say that. Mama is forever telling me to guard my tongue or I shall give gentlemen a distaste of me.”
Sitting beside her and gently taking Rosalind’s hand, Edward smiled down at her. “I assure you, I don’t mind,” he said. “And she is not here to know that you said it.”
For a long moment they stared at one another, then Rosalind abruptly pulled free her hand. “We—we must not,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked, then blushed as she did. Together they said, “Jeremy.”
“Do you feel a tendre for him?” Edward asked hesitantly. “Would you be distressed if he married Miss Delwyn after all?”
Still blushing, Rosalind shook her head. “No, I should like it above all things.”
A trifle surprised, Edward said cautiously, “Yet you do not appear to have discouraged his attentions.”
“But that was only because Emmaline—” Rosalind broke off in confusion. Fighting to regain her composure, she said, “You appear to have been championing Jeremy’s cause with me. Have you come not to wish it?”
“I never—” he began.
“Then why—?” they said together.
In dismay they stared at one another until a smile began to tug at the corners of their mouths.
“I think,” Edward said judiciously, “that we had best compare notes.”
“All right,” she said shyly. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, “Emmaline thought that it would be safer for Jeremy to have his eye on me than some other girl who might marry him.” She paused and giggled. “I was to drive him crazy by being outrageous in my demands and such.”
“Which is why you told him you must have that certain flavor of ice that Gunther’s was out of so that he was forced to bribe them to procure it,” Edward hazarded with a reminiscent smile. “Which Jeremy did only to outrage Emmaline and make her jealous that he would go to such lengths for you yesterday! What a pity he never even saw her and so the gesture went to waste.”
Rosalind looked at Edward, puzzlement evident upon her face. “But why would he wish to make her jealous?” she asked slowly. “Unless he is in love with her—but that’s impossible because if he was there wouldn’t be any reason they shouldn’t marry and they would and Jeremy wouldn’t get upset every time he is asked their wedding date.”
Edward regarded her quizzically. “At first he was terrified of marriage and angry that his father forced him to the step. But it has been some time,” he said gently, “since Jeremy stopped being afraid. It is Emmaline who refuses to marry him or to believe that his sentiments have undergone a change.”
“What are we going to do about it?” Rosalind asked.
“That is precisely what I am asking myself,” he replied. “I know it shan’t be as simple as telling them what we know. Two more stubborn people I have never met.”
With a shiver Rosalind replied, “Too right you are! When once Emmaline takes on a notion it is almost impossible to shake her from it.”
“Jeremy as well,” Edward said grimly. Then, more gently, “Let me think about it. We’ll talk again tomorrow and perhaps by then I’ll have some notions.”
At his words, Rosalind remembered that the Marquess of Alnwick was due back then and she could not help but shiver. Something of her distress conveyed itself to Edward, who immediately asked, “What is it, Rosalind? What is wrong?”
Looking down at her hands, she said so softly he could scarcely hear her, “We shall not be able to talk after tomorrow, I fear.”
“Why not?” Edward demanded in confusion. Rosalind raised her eyes to his and could not hide the plea in hers. “You must know my parents wish me to marry a certain ... certain gentleman. He returns to London tomorrow to claim me. I shall not marry him, of course, but I’ve no doubt my parents will be so angry they shall bundle me off home or some such thing and forbid me to see any of my friends.”
“They would not dare,” Edward told her steadily. “Tomorrow I’ll speak to your father and I assure you that after I have, he will not dare to so mistreat you.” He paused and then said hesitantly, “That is, if you will trust me and give me the right to speak to him for you.”
Shyly Rosalind tucked a hand in his. “I shall trust you always,” she said very simply.
He looked down at her and said, “You shall never regret it, I swear.” Then, as the carriage jolted to a halt he added, “We’re here. No doubt Jeremy and Emmaline and my mother have already arrived.”
He was right, of course. Lady Kirkwood’s hesitation had taken longer than any of them realized and it was only as the curtain was rising that they took their seats in the box, Rosalind beside Jeremy and Edward beside Emmaline with Mrs. Hastings to the rear.
“But my dear, where is your mother?” Mrs. Hastings asked Rosalind.
The girl blushed prettily as she said, “My mother was indisposed and could not come but knew that
you would be here and said I need not stay home with her.”
“I assured her that you would take Rosalind home yourself,” Edward told his mother.
“Well, of course I shall, ” she said, a trifle affronted. “However, I am very glad you could come, my dear. Perhaps you would rather change places with Emmaline? The view is, I believe, a bit better.”
Emmaline and Jeremy could not help but overhear these words and Emmaline colored as Jeremy regarded Mrs. Hastings with raised eyebrows. Neither, however, made a protest as the chairs were rearranged. Emmaline could only be grateful that the play had already begun so that most eyes were turned upon the stage and few free to watch their box. She had no desire to have curious tongues speculate on the change.
So rapt was her own attention to the tale on stage that it came as something of a surprise when the curtain was rung down for intermission. At once, Jeremy and Edward were on their feet. “May we procure you some refreshments?” they asked the ladies.
“Or perhaps you would care to walk with us?” Jeremy asked, a trifle stiffly.
Not trusting herself to speak, Emmaline merely shook her head. After their words in the carriage, the last thing she wished was to be by his side, walking with him, subject to whatever tongue lashing he chose to give her this time. Rosalind answered for them, saying, “We’ll stay here. I—I feel a trifle faint.” At once everyone was all sympathy and, coloring, Rosalind waved away their concern. “I shall be quite all right,” she assured them, “it is just the heat tonight. Pray go and fetch us some lemonade.”
When they were gone, Mrs. Hastings turned her attention to the other boxes and Rosalind and Emmaline were left to themselves. Rosalind was about to speak to her friend when abruptly the door to their box opened and all three women turned to see a gentleman and lady standing in the doorway. He was elegantly dressed if in a somewhat old-fashioned way and leaned slightly upon a silver-headed cane. The lady wore a green silk gown that exactly matched her eyes.
The Counterfeit Betrothal Page 12
